


And Palm to Palm

by enigmaticblue



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-18
Updated: 2010-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a year, they are both more and less changed than either had expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Palm to Palm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the schmoop_bingo prompt, "kiss." Title from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene V, "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,/Which mannerly/ devotion shows in this;/For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,/And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

Brennan searched the crowds around the Reflecting Pool, standing near the coffee cart, an iced coffee in her hand. She had arrived back in Washington D. C. two days before and had spent the time unpacking and setting her office at the Jeffersonian back to rights. Cam had told her to take all the time she needed, but Brennan just wanted to get back to work.

 

She wanted her life back, and Booth was part of her life, which meant that she wanted Booth back, too.

 

Sipping her iced latte, Brennan kept her eyes open for Booth’s familiar broad-shouldered form. Where was he? A year had passed, and he was supposed to be here. She had confirmed the time with him.

 

Maybe this was a sign, she thought. Maybe Booth had moved on. He may have found someone, even in a war zone. This was Booth, after all. Anyone might be attracted to him; his form and features were pleasing to the eye, and he was a hero.

 

Most cultures had a fascination with warriors, and Booth was a warrior. He might—

 

“Bones?”

 

She turned to find him standing a few feet away, dressed in civilian clothing, looking like just another man out for a stroll. But Brennan had known him for a long time now, and she saw the way his t-shirt and jeans hung just a little looser than they had before.

 

Brennan quickly catalogued all the changes in him—the dark tan on his face and arms, the deeper lines around his eyes and mouth, the way he held himself, as though uncertain of his welcome.

 

“Booth.” She tried to put all the welcome she felt into that one word. “Booth,” she repeated.

 

He moved towards her, dodging the tourists in his path, his dark eyes intent. “Hi,” he said when he finally reached her side. “Long time, no see.”

 

“Hi.” She didn’t know what else to say; the words dried up in her mouth. Brennan wanted to tell him how glad she was to see him, how relieved she was that he was safe. She wanted to say more, and yet she couldn’t find the words.

 

Booth had always been skilled at reading body language and facial expressions and the feeling that lay behind the eyes. She hoped he could read her now, so that she didn’t have to speak.

 

“Hi.” His eyes searched her face, and she could see him checking her over the way he did after they’d had a close call in the field. “Hey.”

 

He stretched out his hand, and she returned the gesture, their palms meeting, fingers entwining. Booth’s hand was warm and a little sweaty, his palm callused from frequent use of a weapon.

 

Brennan looked at her hand engulfed in his, noticing for the first time in months that her nails were ragged and chipped, her hands rough from the use of shovels and trowels and brushes. Booth didn’t seem to notice or mind. He gripped her hand tightly, and she could feel the strength there.

 

If she stepped forward, closing the last remaining space between them, Booth’s arms would pull her close. Booth had good arms, strong arms, and Brennan felt more protected with Booth than she had in her entire adult life.

 

She had learned that while she didn’t _need_ a partner, that she could take care of herself, she _wanted_ one. Brennan wanted someone who would watch her back, no matter what.

 

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slide her hand free of his, to trace the muscles of his forearm and bicep, to grip his shoulder. Booth’s expression changed, going from apprehensive to hopeful, and he bent his head.

 

Brennan met him halfway, and when his warm lips met hers, Brennan felt as though she’d finally come home.


End file.
